


Bound to Be Together

by disdainfreely



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Ambulon gets Wrecked, Consensual Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Gratuitous Use of Harpoons, Impactor believes in enthusiastic consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 21:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disdainfreely/pseuds/disdainfreely
Summary: Ambulon and Impactor have a very good night after First Aid gets put to bed.Missing Scene from Shut Up and Dance!
Relationships: Ambulon/Impactor (Transformers)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Bound to Be Together

“Your friend is pretty smashed,” Impactor says in greeting.

Ambulon looks up from the drink he’s chortling into as an indeed very drunk First Aid pulls Springer onto the dance floor. “It’s good for him. He needs to unwind and he’s been into Springer for as long as I’ve known him.”

“Everyone is into Springer,” Impactor says. Ambulon shakes his head and Impactor gives him a sidelong look. “What, you aren’t?” 

“Not my type,” Ambulon says. He looks Impactor up and down.

A grin spreads across Impactor’s face. He’s clearly noticed. “Not into Springer? So, what, not into any Wreckers, or just not him?”

“I could be talked into being into at least one Wrecker,” Ambulon says, emboldened by the high grade he’s been drinking all night.

“Oh really?” Impactor’s grin is turning more predatory, and Ambulon grins a little back. This is...fun. He’s been painted up fresh for the night, he’s had a few drinks, he’s in a good mood. And a very attractive mech is apparently into him. 

He’s unfortunately distracted from Impactor and his very sturdy, strong frame by the arrival of Springer, toting First Aid. Ambulon sighs and sets his drink down.

“Oh, First Aid!”

“Hey Ambulon. How’d I get so tall?” First Aid asks drowsily. It looks like he’s trying very to focus.

“Springer, how’d your medic get so drunk?” Impactor asks, almost laughing.

“He got into the punch.” Springer adjusts his grip on First Aid and the medic bursts into laughter.

Ambulon sighs again. It looks like his night is pretty much over; he should go take care of First Aid.

“Here, I’ll take him home. Don’t worry about it.” He goes to take First Aid from Springer.

“He’s going to be too heavy for you. He’s denser than he looks.” Springer seems amused, cradling First Aid like he doesn’t weigh a thing.

Ambulon hesitates, but Springer seems genuine and First Aid seems more than happy. He makes a mental note to go and check if Springer isn’t back soon, and watches them go a little cautiously.

“Springer’ll take good care of him,” Impactor says. “He’s dealt with his share of drunk mechs. He’ll tuck him in and be back in a couple minutes.” 

“Sounds good,” Ambulon agrees. Impactor crowds in a little closer, nudging his way into Ambulon’s personal space and against his field. Ambulon lets it happen without complaint. He’s not normally a huge fan of close contact, but based on the vague hints of uneasiness in Impactor’s field, he isn’t usually either.

“So, can I get you another drink?” Impactor asks. Ambulon considers, more for show than anything else.

“Yes. Whatever you’re drinking.”

Impactor’s grin turns wicked. “Playing a dangerous game here, medic.”

“I can take whatever you can give,” Ambulon says. Impactor’s field flares and Ambulon tries not to make it obvious how hot that makes him.

“We’ll find out.” Impactor heads over to the bar.

Ambulon watches him go. This is going...better than expected. He’d never expect a Wrecker to be really into him, but Impactor seems genuine enough.

“Hey.”

Ambulon turns to see that Springer has returned, looking amused.

“Thank you for putting him to bed. I’ve had to do it before, and he is...not light,” Ambulon says. 

Springer laughs. “It was no problem. He was pretty cute. I didn’t get a chance to get his comm code before he passed out. Any chance I could get that from you, so I can comm him when he’s sober?”

“I think he’d kill me if he found out that you asked and I didn’t give it to you. Here.” Ambulon pings the code to Springer, whose smile widens. 

“Thanks.” Springer glances over at the bar, where Impactor is waiting for their drinks. “You should have a fun night. I’ll leave you two to it.” He claps Ambulon on the shoulder and heads off toward a very-enthusiastically gesticulating Brainstorm.

“What’d he want?” Impactor asks. He hands Ambulon his drink.

“He wanted ‘Aid’s comm code so he can call him tomorrow.”

“Huh. Good for him.” Impactor takes a drink and Ambulon absently copies him. Whatever drink Impactor got him is something strong enough to burn all the way down.

“What is this?” Ambulon asks once his throat has stopped burning.

“Wrecker blend. Not as strong as the punch, though.”

“The punch is stronger than this? No wonder ‘Aid got blitzed.” Ambulon considers for a moment before knocking the rest of his drink back in one swallow. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Impactor’s eyes light up. “Your hab or mine?”

Ambulon considers. “Which one’s closer?”

“I don’t know, but let’s say mine.” Impactor knocks back his own drink and sets the empty cube aside. “Let’s go.”

Ambulon tosses his own empty cube aside. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

Impactor’s grin is positively feral. He grabs Ambulon’s wrist and pulls him out of Swerve’s. The hallway is suddenly quiet as the door closes behind them, blocking the noise of the party. Ambulon doesn’t have much time to register the drop in volume before Impactor is shoving him up against the nearest wall and kissing him harshly. Ambulon grabs at Impactor’s shoulders with a shudder. He should be surprised that Impactor is this intense, but knowing it and experiencing it are two very different things. 

Impactor kisses like he fights, all power and confidence. Ambulon’s knees go weak. He does his best to reciprocate and is gratified to hear Impactor’s fans click on. Eventually Impactor does pull back, leaving them both panting and vents working overtime.

“Hab?” Ambulon asks hoarsely.

“Yeah.” Impactor presses him up against the wall again anyway and it’s not as if Ambulon is going to object. Impactor’s hand is on his hip and his harpoon is braced against the wall beside Ambulon’s head and he has to be grateful for the hand because that might be all that’s holding him up.

When they break apart again, Ambulon takes a moment to try and cool his over-heating systems. He can still taste the high grade that lingers on Impactor’s lips. It only adds to the pleasant buzz in his processor. Ambulon relaxes into it, letting himself enjoy this, when he otherwise might be too self-conscious to let Impactor run his hand over his frame. Not because he wouldn’t be into it. Close contact has just been difficult since the combiner experiment that permanently altered his frame. This, though... this is good.

“Now my hab,” Impactor rumbles. Ambulon shivers at the low sound of Impactor’s engine.

“Lead the way.” 

Impactor takes hold of Ambulon’s wrist again and pulls him along. It’s not like he has to put much effort in. Ambulon is more than willing to follow him. As soon as they’re in the room, Impactor slams the button to close the door and crowds Ambulon up against it.

Ambulon laughs and kisses Impactor back willingly. It takes him a moment to realize that Impactor is a little shorter than he is. Much broader, but still shorter. It’s still an odd thing to realize. Impactor bites at Ambulon’s jaw, down his neck, and across his shoulder. His free hand is roaming Ambulon’s frame in search of sensitive spots, blunt fingers pressing into transformation seams.

“No kibble,” Impactor comments as he explores.

“No,” Ambulon agrees, suddenly anxious even with the high grade buzzing through his systems.

Impactor gives him a calculating look for a moment, but then shrugs and resumes nipping at the wires of Ambulon’s throat. Relief swamps Ambulon hard enough to pull a moan out of him, as if Impactor’s attentions weren’t already enough. Impactor’s engine roars.

“Berth?” He asks against Ambulon’s shoulder. Ambulon barely has time to choke out a yes before he’s being pushed down on the berth and covered by Impactor in both frame and field.

Laying down means Impactor can get his fingers into Ambulon’s plating more easily, but it also means Ambulon doesn’t have to worry about holding himself up and can focus on reciprocating. For all that Impactor commented on Ambulon’s lack of kibble, he doesn’t have that much himself. What he does have is that massive shoulder gun. Ambulon sets to work exploring it with both hands and mouth. He’s rewarded with a roar of Impactor’s engine. It rattles his entire frame and Ambulon laughs breathlessly.

“Medical training comes in handy.” Ambulon spots a wire connecting the gun to rest of Impactor’s frame and daringly leans in to lick it.

“It true what they say about medic hands?” Impactor rumbles. 

“Only Forged medics,” Ambulon replies.

Impactor makes a sound that might be consideration and might be disappointment before he resumes working his way down Ambulon’s frame. The side of the harpoon nudges at the thin gap between the plating above Ambulon’s hip and he gasps and rocks up into the touch. He can feel Impactor grinning against his belly. He should also be more concerned about having a weapon attached to a very dangerous mech pressed in against delicate wires and large energon tubing. He should be, but he isn’t.

Impactor carefully drags his harpoon along his wiring until Ambulon squirms and moans. The harpoon, even though it’s blunt on the side that’s in contact with him, is connecting live wires that usually would never be in contact and lighting up Ambulon’s nervous system with new sparks of contact.

“You gonna open up?”

Ambulon looks down to see Impactor kneeling between his legs, hand resting on Ambulon’s panel. Ambulon wants to reply, but Impactor shifts his harpoon and whatever he could even think about saying is drowned in a burst of static. Impactor grins a little and does it again.

“You--!” Ambulon attempts to object.

“Yeah, me. Open up.” Impactor rubs at the heated metal.

Ambulon swallows a keen and rocks up into the firm touch. Despite himself, he hears the soft click of his panel opening. Cool air brushes over the aching heat of his valve and he can feel condensation forming on his inner thighs.

Impactor finally removes the harpoon and Ambulon shakes, allowed to relax for a moment without being driven out of his mind. It’s certainly not been an unpleasant series of sensations, but it has been overwhelming. When he’s come back into his head a little, he looks up to see Impactor looking down at him. He looks almost amused, but his fans are roaring in an attempt to dump heat.

“It’s been awhile,” Ambulon offers in apology.

“You good?” Impactor asks.

Ambulon realizes that his hand and harpoon are resting carefully against Ambulon’s hips, just barely touching him.

“I’m good. You told me to open up, so what next?” Ambulon asks in challenge.

Impactor laughs and before Ambulon can say another word, Impactor’s arms are spreading his thighs and a very clever mouth is on his valve. Without thinking, Ambulon finds his hands on Impactor’s helm and his heels digging into Impactor’s back to pull him impossibly closer.

“Fuck!”

Impactor hums in amusement and Ambulon swallows a moan. Whatever Impactor is doing down there, some very distracting mix of heat and suction and a tongue that has clearly done this many times, it has Ambulon panting and beyond words embarrassingly quickly.

“I--” Ambulon tries to give some kind of choked warning, his hands tightening on Impactor’s helm. Impactor just growls in response and does something with his teeth that sends Ambulon into a screaming, sparking overload.

When he comes back to himself, he looks down to see that Impactor is still kneeling between his legs, looking up at him. Ambulon gingerly releases Impactor from the death grip of hands on his helm and heels on his back.

“You back?” Impactor asks, moving up Ambulon’s frame to worry at his throat. Ambulon shivers. He can feel the lubricant on Impactor’s cheeks smearing against his plating.

“Yeah. I’m back,” Ambulon croaks. “Fuck.”

Impactor laughs and shifts and Ambulon feels a slick hardness against his thigh. He looks down between their bodies. Impactor’s spike is out, fully extended and... proportional. Yellow biolights form lines down the smooth purple metal. For all that Ambulon just overloaded, his frame is very onboard with the idea of having that in him as immediately as possible. He wraps one still-shaky leg around Impactor’s hip and pulls him up for a proper kiss.

“Fuck me already.” 

Impactor’s grin is practically feral. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

He reaches down between them to line himself up and Ambulon tries not to make it harder by moving his hips like he so desperately wants to. 

He tries. He doesn’t much succeed.

Impactor doesn’t seem to mind. The Wrecker leans his weight on Ambulon’s hip to hold him steady as he pushes in. Ambulon’s vents dump a rush of hot air. It’s been too long and he’s still sensitive from his first overload. Impactor fits inside him like they were built for each other.

It takes Ambulon a moment to realize that he’s closed his eyes. He opens them to see Impactor looking down at him, optics dark. Sparks are already crackling across his plating. Ambulon grins. Nice to know he’s been having some effect on Impactor too.

“Move,” Ambulon growls.

A roar of Impactor’s engine shakes Ambulon to his core and suddenly Impactor is moving his hips in powerful thrusts. Ambulon clutches at his shoulders to steady himself. With each motion, sparks jump between their joined frames. Ambulon moves his hands down Impactor’s sides in a search of sensitive spots. It’s hard to focus with each thrust driving him further and further out of his head.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Impactor rumbles against his throat. “You feel so good.”

Ambulon swallows a keen, fingers digging into Impactor’s plating. He’s a little beyond words at this point, a little beyond anything past the heat and friction and fullness. Impactor growls again, a low sound in counterpoint to his engine. The vibrations rattle through Ambulon’s entire frame. He gasps. Impactor has shifted slightly and the new angle is sending sparks up Ambulon’s spine. 

Impactor lifts his head to catch Ambulon in a biting kiss. It feels like Ambulon’s systems are overheating and his internals are melting, but if this stops, he’s going to die.

Impactor’s hips stutter and Ambulon whines. He’s so close. He aches he’s so close. Sharp teeth graze Ambulon’s jaw.

“Come on,” Impactor says. The strain in his voice is evident, but the pace of his hips doesn’t falter. Ambulon groans. His spike cover clicks back. Impactor glances down. “Look at you.” He grins, hips still moving at the same punishing pace.

Ambulon’s vents struggle to dump hot air. His hand goes to take hold of his own spike and the instant relief at his own touch pulls a low moan out of him. Impactor’s eyes are locked on his face. Under normal circumstances, the focus would be unnerving, but here, now, Ambulon holds Impactor’s gaze and strokes himself in time to his thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” Ambulon gasps. “I--” That familiar tightness in his belly is starting, like a band being pulled to its breaking point.

Impactor growls against his throat and one last, perfect thrust sends Ambulon over the edge. He screams, sparks crawling across his outer plating from the force of his overload. He can feel how close Impactor is, the hot air pouring off of him, the roar of his engines. He can feel the moment that Impactor’s overload hits as well. The force of it is enough to push Ambulon into a second overload, and that’s when his systems shove him into shutdown. 

Ambulon wakes slowly. His systems are sluggish, but it’s difficult to be concerned about that with the strut-deep satisfaction of being so sated. Judging from the similar feelings radiating from the field beside him, Impactor is fairly sated himself.

“You back with me?” Impactor asks. His voice is rough with static and Ambulon takes a moment to be pleased that Impactor is apparently also still recovering.

“I think so.” Ambulon grins a little and looks over at Impactor. Apparently either Ambulon wasn’t out that long or Impactor was out for a bit too; when Ambulon looks down he sees that Impactor hasn’t even closed his panel yet.

“Glad I don’t need to explain to Ratchet that I broke you.” Impactor sits up and carefully tucks himself away. Ambulon watches him climb off the berth and stretch. In the gleam of the low lights, Ambulon can see scraps of red and white paint on his chest, hips, and thighs. He looks down at himself.

The paint job that First Aid spent so long helping him with is ruined, but honestly Ambulon can’t care. He touches a purple scrape on his hip and smiles. Impactor rejoins him on the berth; Ambulon only really notices when a clean rag lands in his lap.

“Thanks,” Ambulon says, carefully cleaning his inner thighs and doing a quick brush over his array before he closes his panel and tosses the rag aside.

“You can stay the night,” Impactor offers. He lays down, apparently unconcerned with whatever Ambulon decides.

“I don’t think I can walk,” Ambulon admits. 

Impactor chuckles. “Probably not. Lay down. You can leave in the morning.” He shifts over a bit and leans down to grab the messily folded blanket from the foot of the bed.

Ambulon obediently lays down and sighs as Impactor resettles himself behind Ambulon, blanket draped over them both. One heavy arm comes down to rest over Ambulon’s waist and there’s a soft rush of air from Impactor’s vents. Ambulon yawns and pulls the blanket up to settle into recharge himself.

It’s been a good night.

Wait until he tells First Aid


End file.
